


Companionship

by RanebowStitches



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, One Shot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanebowStitches/pseuds/RanebowStitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleaves is mesmerized by the colors flowing from Toffler's music. Can be seen as slash or just friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companionship

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a drabble challenge. The word was "Companion". Hurrah for unpopular ships!

Cleaves laughed as he practically rolled out of George's tent. The stars above him greeted him with twinkling smiles, and he smiled and waved back at them. His head was a mystified mess. Sounds were turning into colors, smells into wisps of light, and walking into a thing of the past. Movement was felt, but direction was thrown out the window. The harsh winter winds pushed and pulled him around, covering him with snow. He was vaguely aware of the cold snow seeping into his knees and palms as he crawled around in it, but mostly it just tickled. He giggled at the feeling and continued going wherever it was the wind took him.  
  
A bright flash of red ran in front of his eyes once he had crawled closer to the main building. It was soon joined by dancing blues and spinning greens. Cleaves guffawed and stumbled weakly to his feet, chasing after the colors. Once he was inside the building, the warm air it held took a bodily form and embraced him. He chuckled and sighed, sinking into the hold. Once the snow was mostly melted off of him, he realized that the source of the colors still moving in his vision were coming from the main living room where Toffler was composing a new hymn. He grinned and giggled, reaching out for a purple that had come up close to him, and made his way into the room. He slouched against a chair that sat by the fire, listening and watching the colors dance around him.  
  
Toffler nodded his head to the steady beat of the music, mumbling words under his breath. His eyes were closed as he concentrated whole heartedly on his song, and he did not hear the other enter. His fingers made their way over the keys like delicate ballerinas, filling the room with glorious noise. Everyone else had gone to bed, and no one could hear the organ from their rooms. No one could tell him to take his hymns elsewhere. He smiled but then wrinkled his nose and clenched his eyes as his fingers hit the wrong keys. He sighed and stopped playing, opening his eyes to look at his journal. Picking it up, he flipped through the pages and jotted down a few things, before jolting at the sound of a groan behind him. The journal was being gripped in his shaking and white knuckled hands as he slowly turned around, eyes wide. He let out his breath as his sights fell on Cleaves, who had by then sunk to the floor and was resting back against the chair. “P-Private Cleaves?” Toffler squeaked out. “W-what are you d-doing here?”  
  
Cleaves's head bobbed forward before snapping back up and turning towards Toffler. He grinned at him and waved. Bright blue waves were rolling off of the chaplain as he stared at him, but the other colors had vanished. Through the fog of his mind, he realized the colors would not reappear if Toffler did not play a song. Cleaves groaned again as he turned and clawed his way to the bench where the other sat. Not feeling up to standing again, he just rested back against it, throwing his head back so that it sat in the seat next to Toffler. He grinned up at the shaking man before frowning. “Why did you, ahaha, stop playing?”  
  
“Well-well I-I...” Toffler trailed off, not really sure what was going on. He knew Cleaves was not right in the head at the moment, but even then he had never shown interest in his hymns before. He looked down at the drowsy man who was rolling his head back and forth across the bench. “You were listening?” Cleaves's eyes snapped to the others mouth when he spoke and it took a minute for his question to settle, but the private nodded. His eyebrows then furrowed. He shook his head.  
  
“I was... watching the, uh,” raising a hand, and concentrating very hard, he attempted to describe the colors with limp-wrist motions in the air. “The... the... Your song is full of colors,” He finally settled with, dropping his hand and looking up at the currently taller man again. Toffler raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Is your mind with you, or are y-you gone? Um, what do you call it?” Toffler asked, setting his journal back down on the stand in front of him.  
  
Cleaves snorted and called out, “Loco!” before bursting into a fit of giggles. His brain felt like it was sitting in a swamp, but he knew somewhere in his mind that his high wouldn't last for much longer. He wanted to see those colors again before it left him. Reaching up, he grabbed at Toffler's sleeve, continuously missing and just sort of hitting him, thus startling the man again. Cleaves gave him his best pleading look. “Will you play me another song? Please?” Toffler bit his lip but nodded. It wouldn't harm anything if he did. It was always exciting when someone was willing to be his companion in music instead of telling him to go fetch ice. Straightening up, the chaplain shook out his hands before placing his fingertips lightly on the keys and beginning.  
  
Cleaves's smile lit up the room as the colors greeted him again. He wove his hands through them, feeling their soft touch, and sighed. The colors were relaxing and brought a peace with them that was not normally felt around the camp. Everyone there knew they were unwanted outcasts. They tried to make the best of it, but it was hard, especially in the unforgiving winter. They did anything to get their minds off of what had become of their lives, if only for a moment. Knox had his booze, Hart had his books, Cleaves had his drugs, and he had to admit that this was the best trip he'd ever had.  
  
Glancing up at Toffler, Cleaves chuckled at how concentrated and into his work he looked. His eyes were closed again, lips speaking soft words that Cleaves couldn't quiet here, but spilled out in yellows and greens. Religion was his distraction to the harsh life he'd been dealt, and he threw himself into it. Cleaves looked toward the fluttering fingers, the source of the euphoria around him. Slowly, he turned himself around, using the bench as an aid, and managed to pull himself into a sitting position on to it. Toffler jerked away, his eyes flying open and hands flying to his chest. Cleaves frowned at him and shook his head. He reached out and took Toffler's hands, pulling them back to the keys. “Keep playing,” He explained. Toffler swallowed a breath and nodded, continuing his song, albeit a little more apprehensively. He stumbled over the keys again when not even a few minutes later he felt Cleaves rest his head on his shoulder. He couldn't turn his head to look at the private without hitting him with his face, so he just tried to keep playing and ignore the warmth that was being transferred between them. “P-Private Cleaves?”  
  
“Shh,” Cleaves tilted his head and scooted closer so that his words fell right into Toffler's ear. “Just keep playing. Please,” His hot breath ghosted over the other's skin, causing him to shudder and nod quickly. Cleaves just grinned, his eyes half lidded as he watched the show before him, hand occasionally reaching out to catch the swirling colors. As as the night drew on, the fire died down, but Toffler kept playing. Soon, all the colors fell asleep. Cleaves smiled and shut his eyes, his mind clear except for one color. The blue that surrounded Toffler was glowing brightly in the coming darkness, and Cleaves reveled in the fact that he knew he would see it no matter what his state of mind.  
  
“Thank you,” He whispered as sleep threatened to overtake him and Toffler's song came to an end. He felt a hand hesitantly brush some hair away from his forehead, lingering on his skin for a few seconds longer.  
  
“No, thank you,” Toffler spoke, resting for a moment before helping Cleaves stumble sleepily to bed.


End file.
